Ad Policy

By using this website, you consent to our use of cookies. For more information, visit our Privacy Policy

March 18, 2002 Issue

purchase current issue


Download PDF of this issue

  • Books & the Arts

  • Messenger

    The birds stopped coming after the annuals died.
    I didn't realize how much I missed them until the bluebird

    Returned, lured by the burgundy haze of the fall pansies
    Pouring from the window boxes. I was too slow finding

    The camera and then I left the cap on. The bird rose
    Into a cut of sky and I was left with a vision of blue--

    His sapphire eye and marigold breast. Maybe it was you,
    Released from your standing body--fingers fluid between

    Tissue and organ--as you operate in the crowded surgical
    Theatre, transformed to tell me autumn is here. I would not

    Be surprised. This brief visit imitates your frequent calls
    Between cases. After he flies, the room seems to hold you.

    I see the white waves throwing themselves into the Cliffs
    Of Moher, your eyes stealing blue from the sky.

    Jennifer Franklin

  • The Still Bad New Old Nixon

    It's been three decades since President Richard M.

    Robert Scheer
  • The stakes are higher now than ever. Get The Nation in your inbox.